Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Caveman
"Grunting like an animal- - that is exactly what we should be doing," he thought.
"I have been scribbling on this wall for hours," he announced imperiously in the spirit of his usual seriously self-important pronunciations from the precarious edge of a marble pebble pedestal. Scratching his wildly unshaven crotch with one hand and clutching a haven of confusion in another, the scribe hurled his piece of chalk into the sombre embrace of the dusty floor freezing in her guts and tumbled off his marble pebble pedestal: the angsty mind of Freddy Nishaw's simply wandering- - angrily- - oh yes, just like a child on an aimless rampage- - a mind that has alienated friends and enemies alike. Just last week, Arthur Shoppinghauler had telephoned him to call it quits.
"And the world mamboing in the madcap hopelessness of sanity is perpetually watching out for the world for any signs of insanity- - ever ready pounce on it as a diversion from their own insanity in sanity. Yet such insanity in sanity- the forced sanitization of our times - is the object of my contempt. Oh contempt, I have so much of it! So much of it!" Nishaw ranted, stretching each word to extra-sesquipedalian proportions in an attempt at aristocratic contempt. "Would you like some contempt?" Nishaw offered contempt in the cusp of his hands to an invisible member of the audience; Amy Randy declines politely and briskly proceeds out of the theater.
He is alone again in the cave he shares with frogs and chalk, a cookie and his failing mind. Nishaw begins churning about- in vertigoes and various circles- one and all the same thing- dazed and dizzy- his penis playing tag- whirling behind his naked body- as he spun- and churned about. Suddenly, the doorbell to his cavedoor rings and the penis caught up with the testicles and body. He pries open the cavedoor and spots Johnny Calves standing at the entrace, brimming with a smile that Nishaw so desired to put out with a fire extinguisher. "Is Jehovas Das Gott staying here?"
"Gott is dead!" Nishaw gruffed in contempt and slammed the door shut.
The world is but a stage; where every
one must play a part; yet this actor
stood alone; weeping himself in his
nakedness; in the spectacular spectacle
of himself- - lamenting: the globe the
world has shoved into my arms- have
made me no longer the man- - I- -
ought to be: master; and not slave.
cuRRent...jer ¶ 9:19 pm
"Grunting like an animal- - that is exactly what we should be doing," he thought.
"I have been scribbling on this wall for hours," he announced imperiously in the spirit of his usual seriously self-important pronunciations from the precarious edge of a marble pebble pedestal. Scratching his wildly unshaven crotch with one hand and clutching a haven of confusion in another, the scribe hurled his piece of chalk into the sombre embrace of the dusty floor freezing in her guts and tumbled off his marble pebble pedestal: the angsty mind of Freddy Nishaw's simply wandering- - angrily- - oh yes, just like a child on an aimless rampage- - a mind that has alienated friends and enemies alike. Just last week, Arthur Shoppinghauler had telephoned him to call it quits.
"And the world mamboing in the madcap hopelessness of sanity is perpetually watching out for the world for any signs of insanity- - ever ready pounce on it as a diversion from their own insanity in sanity. Yet such insanity in sanity- the forced sanitization of our times - is the object of my contempt. Oh contempt, I have so much of it! So much of it!" Nishaw ranted, stretching each word to extra-sesquipedalian proportions in an attempt at aristocratic contempt. "Would you like some contempt?" Nishaw offered contempt in the cusp of his hands to an invisible member of the audience; Amy Randy declines politely and briskly proceeds out of the theater.
He is alone again in the cave he shares with frogs and chalk, a cookie and his failing mind. Nishaw begins churning about- in vertigoes and various circles- one and all the same thing- dazed and dizzy- his penis playing tag- whirling behind his naked body- as he spun- and churned about. Suddenly, the doorbell to his cavedoor rings and the penis caught up with the testicles and body. He pries open the cavedoor and spots Johnny Calves standing at the entrace, brimming with a smile that Nishaw so desired to put out with a fire extinguisher. "Is Jehovas Das Gott staying here?"
"Gott is dead!" Nishaw gruffed in contempt and slammed the door shut.
The world is but a stage; where every
one must play a part; yet this actor
stood alone; weeping himself in his
nakedness; in the spectacular spectacle
of himself- - lamenting: the globe the
world has shoved into my arms- have
made me no longer the man- - I- -
ought to be: master; and not slave.
cuRRent...jer ¶ 9:19 pm
